


Moonlight Serenade

by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/pseuds/Sandrine%20Shaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another night, another rooftop. Same setting, third take. Maybe it's time to rewrite the ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight Serenade

**Author's Note:**

> Set in mid-season 2.

"We've got to stop meeting like this."

Chuck's voice was sardonically amused, but there was no smile on his lips and his eyes were narrowed dangerously, striking up a mental image of a hawk watching his prey. Jenny felt a shiver running down her spine that had nothing to do with the chilly night air against her bare arms.

"I didn't know anyone was up here," she said awkwardly, unconsciously crossing her arms in front of herself. "Sorry. I'd better get back inside." 

She had wanted to catch a breath of fresh air to clear her head after too much champagne and a fight with Eric, but it suddenly seemed like a bad idea. It was much colder up on the roof than she'd expected, and the icy air seemed to choke her. And then, there was Chuck. Memories of another night like this returned, unbidden and unwelcome but impossible to shake off: demanding lips on hers, hands sliding her dress upwards, her struggles futile and more half-hearted than she'd have liked. 

Wrapping her arms tighter around herself, she turned and took a few steps towards the exit.

"Leaving so soon? You don't even have me out of my pants yet." 

She froze, shocked both by the sudden proximity of the voice and his words. _Of course_ he knew; she should have expected no less. He'd probably put every wheel in motion to find out who'd locked him half-naked on a rooftop the second he made it back inside and found himself some pants. Possibly even before that.

Chuck was right behind her now. She didn't need to turn around to know that; she could feel the heat of his body, smell his aftershave in the air. He wasn't touching her, no yet, but he would if she stayed. She knew she should get inside, but it felt like she was rooted to the spot.

"I didn't think you wanted a repeat performance," she quipped lamely.

"I was hoping we could maybe change the ending this time. It did start off rather promising, don't you think?"

Warm breath brushed against the shell of her ear as he spoke, and she was torn between the conflicting urges: to run or to lean back against him. She felt giddy, breathless. Her head was swimming and low in her stomach, desire mingled with panic. She hadn't felt like this with Nate or with anyone else, and she wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.

When Chuck's hands settled on her hips, she jumped a little and he chuckled against her hair. "Easy there. I'm not going to bite. Not very hard, anyway."

She turned in the lose embrace, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Do you want Dan to give you another black eye? I didn't think you enjoyed it so much the first time." 

The threat would have been infinitely more effective if her voice had been steady and her body wasn't swaying in the wrong direction: towards him instead of away.

"I'd say 'the lady doth protest too much', but then, you're not really a lady, are you, little Jenny Humphrey?"

He delivered the insult in the same amused tone he'd been using the whole time, and she wanted nothing more than to slap him for this. Except that, at the same time, his hand slid under the short skirt of her dress and touched her _there_ : skilled, clever fingers brushing against her clit through the damp fabric of her panties, and she couldn't find the strength for a clever retort or a physical rebuke.

She arched against him, only his other hand – the one that was still on her hip – steadying her. He deftly pushed her panties aside, and for a second, the sensation of cool air on wet, aroused skin felt strange and sensual, before his fingers were back. They seemed to be everywhere at once: teasing her clit, dipping inside of her, pinching, twisting, stroking, making her flow over.

"Look at me," he commanded, voice husky and insistent, and she did. His eyes were glittering predatory in the neon light, locking onto her with his pupils blown. She couldn't help wondering what she looked like to him now.

Chuck pushed three fingers deep inside her and orgasm hits her like a brick wall, her knees buckling under her and a voiceless little scream torn from her throat that he swallowed with his lips. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was like he was marking her, taking, conquering, and all she could do was part her lips for him and let him have her. 

And then, as soon as it had started, it was over. He took a step backwards, away from her, and she had to learn to stand on her own feet again, without him holding her up. 

Still holding her gaze, Chuck lifted his hand to his lips and slowly, deliberately licked his fingers, as if he was savouring her taste. She watched him and swallowed dryly, lingering arousal mingling with confusion and discomfort and embarrassment. 

Chuck smirked at her. Or maybe he was smiling; it was hard to tell, with him. 

"Well. I think we're getting better at this, don't you think?" he said. And then, almost softly, "Until the next time, Jenny Humphrey."

He sauntered past her towards the exit, back inside to rejoin the party.


End file.
